Page 82 of Double Edged Hearts
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alex
I drive my car like I ride my bike.
Like the fucking devil.
My arm is bandaged up, and I’m wearing a support belt on top of the bandages around my waist.
Whatever pain I feel is replaced by my focus on what I have to do.
Fight dirty.
I’m nothing near top form. I’m not even fifty percent, so I’m going in with my street-smart tactics. I’ve got all sorts of weapons on me, and I plan to strike to kill on the first move, making no mistakes.
What I don’t want is to either get hurt or get killed, and obviously take myself out of the game. These motherfuckers are really going to get theirs. I’ll make sure of it. Every last fucking one, and I’ll hack Richard’s head off myself.
Our entourage gets close, and bullets start to fly. We knew that would happen, though, and that’s not going to stop us. We’re going in like an army, and we don’t plan on retreating like a bunch of fuckers.
Claudius leads the bikers in front. That includes Dante, Gio, and the Giordano pack led by their boss, Vincent Giordano. In times like these, one phone call bands us together and we fight side by side.
Donny leads the bikers to the back, and I lead the cars. This is us as the first wave. We have more men on standby for backup, but we thought our team here would be enough.
We didn’t think they’d consider my resurrection and me coming in with an army of raw-assed gangsters thirsty for blood.
When we get near Donny’s team, we split left and right to get to the side entrances of the airport.
I continue on with the car and the first row of bikers.
We drive in through the open door, and that’s when all hell breaks loose. The bullets crack my windshield, and I screech the car to a stop.
The other cars have stopped too, and the men jump out shooting.
We were right in our assumption. There aren’t many men around. On the other side, I count thirty, and before I get out of the car, I spot Matvey coming down the stairs of the upper deck. The motherfucker spots me too and roars like some wild animal, charging forward. I steady myself, waiting.
With injuries like mine, the goal in staying alive is to conserve energy and not exert myself when I don’t need to. So, when the asshole flies down at me, launching himself into midair like a beast, I don’t run like the pussy he thinks I am. I stay and time his movements, crouching down just before he gets to me and sending an upper cut into his stomach to deflect his flight. Instead, he flies over my head and lands hard on the ground.
He looks stunned, and I can see he took a hit and is more hurt than he’s showing. He hit his head, and his movements as he tries to get up are slow. I take advantage of that and shoot him in his chest.
I’m quick, but he’s strong and thick.
He comes for me as if the bullet did nothing but graze him even though I can see blood seeping from the wound, spreading over his white shirt.
He throws a punch and gets me in my face. I’m stronger than that, and while he might be bulkier in muscle than me, I’m quicker.
“You asshole, you won’t get me,” he taunts as he sends a one-two punch into my waist.
I double over from the searing pain that makes me see stars but tuck and roll onto the ground out of the way of another punch.
“You fucker, we’ll definitely see about that,” I shout back sounding more confident than I feel. The asshole got me exactly where I got shot and now the wound hurts like a bitch again.
“Yes, we will. I’ll make sure you’re dead this time.”
I’m not in the mood for this pissing contest. I grab my knife and try to slash him, but he dodges, grabs his gun, and fires a shot my way.
I dodge and run behind the car to shield myself for the next round he sends towards me. It’s time to end this. My body is on fire, and I think I might have busted those stitches Doc warned me about. I can’t even feel my shoulder anymore, but as long as my arm can move, I’ll make it work.
I see him coming, so I move in the other direction. An idea comes to me, so thinking quickly, I slide over the hood of the car and recoil with my gun ready.
